The following year, we had a shot at redemption with the Redskins in Super Bowl XXII. Like the previous year, we started well, up 10-0, until the 2nd Quarter. That quarter was so bad, it became known as "The Quarter" where the Redskins put up 35 points with 365 yards and 5 touchdowns. I was peeling the skin off my body. It was even worse this time!! The game ended with 42 unanswered points for a 42-10 blow-out. I've actually blocked the second half of the game out of my mind.
The final blow to my faith came in 1990, when we faced off with the 49'ers in Super Bowl XXIV. I knew going in they were the better team, but I still genuinely hoped we had a chance to win. 3rd time's a charm, right? WRONG. 55-10. Most lopsided game in the history of the Super Bowl. I can actually recall the birth of a cynic within me during that game as I began to expect Jerry Rice to blow past us for endless touchdowns. The pain yielded to numbness, then to stone. My faith was dead.
Didn't we win back-to-back Super Bowls with Terrel Davis, Eddie Mac, Shannon Sharpe, Atwater, Romo and a host of great players? Yes. 2,000 yard rushing season? Yes. Did it re-kindle my childlike faith? No. As Frodo Baggins would say:
"How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on... when in your heart you begin to understand... there is no going back? There are somethings that time cannot mend... some hurts that go too deep... that have taken hold."
Just ask my wife. I am damaged goods. You may be thinking, GET OVER IT YOU STUPID FOOL! ITS JUST A GAME!!! YOU DIDN'T EVEN PLAY ON THE TEAM!! All fair points. But that 10 year old boy didn't know that. All he knew was the pastor of his second church could not work miracles when it counted the most. I built up a wall around me to avoid being hurt like that again. I'd never let anyone or anything crush my hope like that again. Sounds stupid, unreasonable, but true. I'll admit it. The primary bricks in my wall? Lowered expectations, which eventually hardened with older age as I realized sports really are nothing more than entertainment. I savored the Terrell Davis years like a wounded animal chews on a hunk of red meat, but the threat of the stick always loomed in my mind.
Getting truly involved in my real faith gave me perspective on what's worth getting hurt for, and what's not. As much as I enjoy sports, I see their place as entertainment in my life. Do I still get ticked and upset? Of course (just read some prior sports posts). But I now have perspective that limits my passion for the game to within reasonable levels.
So when I look at the 4-0 Broncos, I want them to win, but the wild hope of my youth is gone. I carefully watched the Nuggets in the playoffs, but knew ultimate victory was unlikely. The Rockies were bound to get creamed by the Red Sox, and they may not get out of the first round this year. And I'm still waiting for Max Hall to throw the next interception. Maybe if I listen the Celine Dion song "Its all coming back to me now" I'll get the feeling back? Nah.
Absurd as it may sound, due to my relationship with sports, (in some part) I'm beginning to understand what Jesus meant by having childlike faith. Opening up fully like I did when I was a kid is a hard and scary thing to do, but He is the one person I can trust with my heart and faith. He does not fail us. I've got a long way to go (just ask my wife), but this following passage sums it up well:
Wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God, which hope cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast, always abounding in good works, being led to glorify God. (Eth 12:4)
9 comments:
Why do you keep saying "just ask my wife" in your blog?
After cleaning the house by myself, feeding the baby, taking the kids to school, soccer, homework and time with my friends, what makes you think I have time to answer stupid questions about your broken inner-football child?
Just one more thing for me to do with no help whatsoever. Until you start helping around the house on a consistent basis, buy me some REAL jewelry and start plucking your nasty ear hairs I will not answer any questions.
That was below the belt! But the truth cuts the wicked to the center. No more "just ask my wife" references. Can I still come home for dinner tonight?
Wow. The Broncos are for real. I realize I condemed the franchise to the grave earlier this year, but I'm happy to eat my hat (with A-1 sauce).
As for the Rockies, they fought hard, its hard to get 2 miracle wins in one night. Perhaps they can win tonight and finish in Philly. We'll see...
Touching. I'm glad to see you've come to grips with your inner-sports-child.
If it makes you feel any better, my own wife gloried at the first comment on here and virtually stuffed my face in it. You're not alone. (As a collective group of husbands and fathers, we could all do much, much better.) May your nights on the couch be few and numbered.
FYI, I deleted the comment above because I had messed up the formatting.
BTW, did you change your main picture?
I'm still trying to come to grips with the first comment. I'm not about to comit Seppuku, but I feel deep shame as I have dishonored my flower.
Thank you for noticing my slight change in emotional-masculine mountian photography. Like the mosaic in the sky or a fish impaled upon on a spear - some things must change but other may not.
Julie, loved your follow up feedback:)
Fletch-that was one of the best entries I have read yet. There are some things that our loved ones will never understand. What is more close to the heart of young boy than his childhood sports teams and sports heros? I still get worked about church softball for crying out loud! There is something about watching your team win and loose that changes you forever. Thanks for verbalizing what we are thinking
I'm glad you're not going to disembowel yourself yet; let me know when you do, I haven't seen it before.
As for the mosaic and fish impalement, you lost me on that one, chief.
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